


Big Red Tabby

by Ruuger



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Cats, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuger/pseuds/Ruuger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane's very bad day turns out to be not so bad after all.  </p>
<p>(aka the "hugs and kittens for Jane" fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Red Tabby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skieswideopen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skieswideopen/gifts).



> Inspired by [this discussion](http://ruuger.dreamwidth.org/915348.html?thread=4494740#cmt4494740) ;)
> 
> (And it only took me a year to write it!)

Jane woke up from his doze when the van came to a halt. Around him, he could hear Lisbon and the others collecting their gear, but he waited until he heard the door slide open before opening his eyes. It had been weeks since he'd last managed to get more than a few hours of sleep, probably not since the night in Vegas with Lorelei, and there was a tiredness burning behind his eyes that refused to go away. He briefly considered staying behind in the car to get few more winks, but he knew that would only lead to yet another argument with Lisbon, and he didn't think he had the energy for that. It would be much less of a bother to just go along with them for a while and sneak back when she was distracted.

He stepped out of the car, wincing when the far too bright sunlight hit his eyes. When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw that Lisbon was watching him with a stern look on her face. He smiled at her, but it must have come out wrong because she turned away without a word and headed towards the house. Stifling a yawn, he followed after her.

It was a murder, of course. Thirty-something black-haired, olive-skinned maid lying in a pool of blood on the expensive oriental rug in her employer's library. Another life lost and for what? Money, love, or hate, one of the three. It usually was. 

Jane followed Lisbon around the crime scene on auto-pilot, until it was time to meet the owners of the house. He was not surprised when the dead woman's employer turned out to be a large, red-faced man with an expensive but ill-fitting suit and a short temper.

"This is unbelievable! How dare you even suggest that either one of us might have anything to do with her death?"

The man towered over Lisbon, but she held held her ground, not even flinching when the man waved his finger at her face.

"Mister Radnell, I assure you-"

"Do you have any idea who I am? Just one phone call, and you'll be spending the rest of your career directing traffic!"

Jane let his mind wander as Lisbon and Cho tried to placate Mr. Radnell. The man was nothing but a simple-minded bully, all sound and fury, signifying nothing. A nobody who tried to make himself seem more important by surrounding himself with expensive yet tasteless decor, including a trophy wife sculpted into perfection by the finest plastic surgeons. 

"Jane!"

He was roused from his musings to find everyone staring at him. The man looked even more furious than before, and his wife was hanging on to her husband's arm, her botoxed face frozen in an expression of mild surprise. It took Jane a second to realise that he had been talking out loud the whole time. He rolled his eyes. "Oh please, this man is nothing but a piece of-"

He realised his miscalculation a second too late. He'd assumed that the man would be cowardly, used to having others do his dirty work, and so he didn't see the ham-sized fist coming until it slammed into his face.

Jan lost his balance as the punch threw him backwards, only barely avoiding cracking his skull open against the sharp edge of the $5000 mahogany desk as he crumbled to the floor. The left half of his face was a burning mass of agony, the throbbing waves of pain ebbing and flowing to the beat of his heart. There was a loud buzzing in his ears, and he was only barely aware of the sounds of Cho and Rigsby apprehending and cuffing his assailant.

"I think it's best if you go and wait in the car." 

When Jane looked up, he saw Lisbon standing above him, her expression a combination of disappointment and pity. He wanted to tell her that it hadn't been his fault - He was the one who'd been attacked! - but said nothing, and just let her help him back to his feet.

Once back in the van, Jane made himself a comfortable nest on the back seat, in the middle of a pile of kevlar jackets. He lay there with his eyes closed for a few minutes, trying to relax, but found that he too tired to even sleep. He tossed and turned on his make-shift bed, half-asleep, his thoughts plagued by memories of children crying. 

_Children crying..._ He opened his eyes, his brain suddenly registering that the crying was coming from outside the car and not inside his head. He sat up, frowning, and then slid the door open.

There was a small boy, maybe ten years old, sitting on a wooden park bench near the car. He jumped to his feet, looking scared, when Jane clambered out of the van.

"Is something wrong?" Jane asked, wincing as the bright sunlight brought his headache back with a vengeance.

The boy took a hesitant step backwards. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," he said.

"I'm not a stranger." Jane patted his pockets until he felt the slim edge of the laminate. "I work for the police." He took out his ID card and showed it to the boy.

The boy looked at the card, and then at him, his eyes narrowing. "That's not a real badge," he finally said, a suspicious tone in his voice. "That's just a piece of plastic with your picture on it."

Jane turned the badge over to look at it himself. "That's very astute of you. I really do wish they'd give me a real one." He sighed. "If I didn't work for the police, would I have..." 

He peered inside the van, trying to come up with something to prove that he wasn't lying. He dismissed Rigsby's half-empty box of donuts and the folder full of flyers Lisbon had brought with her from some law enforcement seminar she'd attended, before his eyes fell on the pile of kevlar vests at the back. He reached in and grabbed one. "A bullet proof vest with..." He looked at the vest, which had the word CBI printed on it, and then threw it back into the car, rummaging the pile until he found one with the word 'POLICE' on it instead. "...'police' on it?"

"What's CBI?" The boy was still looking at him suspiciously, although Jane could tell from his voice that he was also both curious and impressed.

"Do you know what FBI is?" When the boy nodded, he continued. "We're like them, only without the marketing budget." 

He tossed the vest back into the car, and sat down in the open doorway, trying to make himself appear as harmless and trustworthy as possible. "I'm Patrick Jane. What's your name?"

"Darryl."

"Why were you crying, Darryl?"

"I did something stupid."

Jane shrugged. "Well, then you've come to right person, because no matter what you did, I bet it's nowhere near as stupid as some of the things I've done. What did you do?"

"I'm supposed to always close the door when I went out, but then Jake came over to show his new bike, and I forgot, and Ginger got out and now I can't find her."

"Ginger?"

"Mom's cat." Darryl bit his lip, and then looked at Jane. "Are you really a cop? You don't look like a cop."

"Well, not really a cop as such. More of a cop-adjacent. A consultant. But I'm pretty good at finding things that are lost."

"Can you help me find Ginger?"

Jane smiled, and stood up, brushing his clothes. "I thought you'd never ask. C'mon, let's go find your cat."

They headed down the street, checking under cars and hedges, calling out the cat's name. When they passed an ice cream van, Jane briefly considered buying them ice cream, but then decided against it because it would only teach Darryll a bad lesson about talking to strangers. Besides, he was out of cash, and he doubted the ice cream van accepted Mastercard.

After ten minutes of looking, Jane spotted a pile of PVC pipes left over from a construction site a little way off. He changed his course towards them. He'd always been more of a dog person than a cat person, but he knew that cats liked small, enclosed spaces, and the PVC pipes looked exactly like the kind of a hiding place a scared runaway might choose. When they reached the pipes, he knelt down on the ground and peered inside the bottom one. It was pitch black, but when he strained his eyes, he saw a flash of something furry and orange at the back of the pipe. He sat up again.

"I think she's in there. Can you try calling her?"

Darryl knelt down next to him, and looked into the pipe.

"Ginger! Come here, Ginger! Ginger!"

He called the cat's name a few more times without any result, and then turned to look at Jane.

"Why isn't she coming out?"

"I think she's just scared. I'll try to get her out." He lay down on the ground and, pushed his arm in, trying not to think what else might be in the pipe. He carefully inched his hand forward until his fingers brushed against something soft that he desperately hoped was the cat. He then felt around a little more until he got his hand around the scruff of the cat's neck and carefully pulled the animal out of the pipe. 

Darryl's face slip into a wide smile when he saw the cat. "Ginger!" 

Taking care to hold the cat so that it couldn't scratch or bite him, Jane positioned the animal into Darryl's arms. It seemed to recognise its owner and calmed down immediately, nuzzling its face against the boy's. Jane began to brush the dirt off his clothes but then stopped when he heard a quiet mewling sound. He knelt down on the ground again and looked into the pipe. 

"Was Ginger by any chance fatter when you last saw her?" He asked, still peering into the darkness.

Darryl looked at the cat, and then at Jane. "Yeah, she was!"

Jane reached into the pipe, all the way to his shoulder, until he again felt soft fur underneath his fingers. He gently wrapped his fingers around it and pulled it out.

The little red kitten must have been only a few hours old at most. Its fur was still moist, and it let out a plaintive meow when it was brought into light.

Darryl stared at Jane. "Ginger had kittens!" He said in wonder.

Jane shrugged off his jacket and lay it on the ground, then put the kitten gently on it. In Darryl's arms, Ginger began to struggle to get free. 

"You can put Ginger on the ground," Jane said. "She won't go anywhere without her kittens."

As the cat began to clean the kitten, Jane knelt down and reached into the pipe again. He pulled the rest of the kittens from the pipe one by one, until he was certain that there were no more left.

When he was done, he stood up, holding the last kitten in his hand. It was crying out for its mother as it blindly nuzzled his palm. He gently stroked its head for a moment, and then rejoined it with its family.

"We should take the cats home."

He carefully picked up his coat, wrapping the kittens in it, while Darryll carried Ginger. When they reached his home, Jane helped Darryl make a bed for the cats in the bathroom.

"I better go," he said once they were finished. "My friends are probably looking for me already."

Darryl nodded. "Okay," he said, and then suddenly wrapped his arms around Jane.

"Thank you, Mr. Jane!"

After leaving Darryl with the kittens, Jane took his time returning to the van. It really was a gorgeous day - the sun was shining, and warm breeze carried with it the scent of the sea. The others had not yet returned, so Jane sat down on the bench near the car and closed his eyes, just basking in the sun. He was still tired, but it wasn't the burning, brain-numbing exhaustion he'd felt before, but rather a warm, comfortable drowsiness that one might feel after a day at the beach. After a while he took off his jacket and bunched it into a makeshift pillow, and lay back on the bench for a quick nap.

He woke up to the sound of Lisbon's voice.

"Jane, get up. We're going home."

He opened his eyes and stretched his back, feeling more rested than he had in ages. It was like he'd slept around the clock, even though based on the position of the sun, it couldn't have been longer than an hour or two.

"Home? Did you already crack the case?"

Lisbon nudged him with her leg, looking almost smug. "We did. And completely without your help. How about that." 

Jane shifted to make her room on the bench. "Oh, do tell."

He listened to her explain how, after he had left, Cho had taken a better look at the desk that Jane had fallen against, only to find a bloody letter-opened stashed under the drawers. When she'd seen the knife, the trophy wife had cracked and confessed that she'd killed the maid after the woman had seen her husband slap her.

When Lisbon finished, she looked at him expectantly. He kept his expression neutral and said: "So technically you did need me to solve the case."

"Oh, hush. " She swatted his arm, but then gave him a gentle look. "Are you feeling any better? Did you sleep the whole time?"

He started to answer to her, and then paused, uncertain what to say. Because he did feel better. Tomorrow, he'd have to go back to trying to track down Lorelei, but right now, he almost felt happy.

He smiled. "Oh no. I closed my own case."

Lisbon looked suspiciously. "Your case? What case?"

He stood up, and then held out his hand to her. "Buy me an ice cream, and I'll tell you."


End file.
